


The Last Oil Baron

by SilverMiko



Category: Saturday Night Live, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: ABO, Age Difference, Alpha/Omega Dynamics, Biting, Crack, Daddy Kink, F/M, Fluff, Graveyard Sex, HR Pickens rolls in his grave, Happy Ending, I'm Going to Hell, Marriage, Mating, Oil, Revenge, Reylo - Freeform, Semi-Public Sex, This is crack, abreyham - Freeform, blame saturday night live, but crack played straight crack, campy crack?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 18:30:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16164464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMiko/pseuds/SilverMiko
Summary: Abraham H Parnassus is an oil man, and oil is not for the weak. He has crushed his enemies, especially HR Obi Wan Pickens! When engages this rivalry against Pickens sole heir, he doesn't expect her to be a delectable young Omega. Well then, his revenge will have a change of plans.





	The Last Oil Baron

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> I need Jesus, yes thank you. I didn't make this as dirty as I could have due to being sleepy. Carry the torch on, my friends!

_ It Began With… _

 

Abraham Parnassus had eschewed his original name much like he eschewed his estranged family. It was as much a ghost as the boy he had once been. Just as he emerged from the pizza oven that incubated him until he was ripe, he developed and hardened over the years under Jebediah Snoke, his mentor in the oil industry. Oil was not for the weak, and Snoke had molded and shaped Abraham, as he was called now, into a fine heir as CEO of First Order Oil.

It was Parnassus’ unflinching restraint and cool cruelty that allowed him to crush his enemies and grind their bones to the very dirt! The weak fell before him like flies. San Tekka Mines, Calrissian Power Co…. But one remained, in spirit and incorporation. 

That God damned HR Obi Wan Pickens! 

The old coot might be dead, but Pickens Electric remained a thorn is Parnassus’ side decades later thanks to the young foolish R. Pickens, sole heir to the company who apparently was only just finishing college. Well, Abraham Pickens would crush him like he did every other enemy!

It began, as these soul-destroying tactics of his tended to, with a court order. What he had not expected was the tenacious young Pickens would fire back. For two years Parnassus fought his rival’s grandchild by proxy, and a month ago he had spent his 45th birthday ass-deep in litigation thanks to the annoying Pickens lad. 

Abraham Parnassus had had enough with the court games, it was time to go in for blood and the opportunity presented itself when both First Order Oil and Pickens Electric were up for competing bids on a lucrative government contract. As fate would have it, or rather, a bribed secretary, Parnassus had Picken’s initial pitch appointment scheduled after his. He would finally come face to face with that upstart and make sure the boy was spooked well and good. Abraham was tall and imposing, a supreme Alpha; his shoulder black hair shot through with silver. He’d made lesser rivals piss in fear with just the shake of his ornamental walking stick. 

R Pickens was about to meet his match and Parnassus would have his victory.

 

Except, according to his PA Mitaka, it was not some young boy wet behind the ears who turned up to pitch Pickens, but a girl.

“What girl?!” Parnassus exclaimed, ready to choke his assistant on the spot. Mitaka could only shake his head and shrug. Parnassus whacked him in the leg with his stick and stormed off, intent on seeing who this girl was. Perhaps some secretary?

As he turned the corner near the lobby, he found a young woman in a beige and tan skirt suit waiting, her hair done up in three buns in the back. She was, objectively, an attractive girl but her smell! Grease and lemon, it reminded him of the oil rigs he owned and made a strange pleasure warm in his chest.  _ Omega _ .

She stiffened for a moment and turned, and he could tell from her expression that she scented him in the air. How must he smell to her, he wondered? Powerful, he’d wager. Their eyes locked for a long moment before another man, one of the company’s beta account execs, intruded on the moment.

“Ah, Miss Pickens, right on time!” 

_ Miss _ Pickens?!

The woman in question tore her gaze from Parnassus’ and fixed a polite smile as she shook the Beta’s hand.

“Please, call me Rey. Shall we?” 

“Indeed! I hope Parnassus here didn’t try to rattle you,” the soon to have his life destroyed Beta joked, even having the gall (THE GALL!) to clap a hand on Parnassus’ arm. 

“You! You’re him?” Miss Pickens, Rey, all but hissed.

“Miss Pickens, finally in the flesh. I very much have enjoyed our little correspondences all these years,” he quipped, his voice light but eyes dark as pitch.

She laughed, falsely, and followed the Beta on as Parnassus watched.

His plan to rattle young Pickens, the delectable Miss Pickens as it were, might have failed but he hadn’t been forged in a cast iron, literally, to fall short now. He did, after all, have the biological advantage. Ah yes, that was how he would win this round and she wouldn’t even know it for days. And so, Abraham Parnassus sat and kicked his feet up on the lobby sofa and he waited, sending Mitaka ahead back to the office.

An hour later, Miss Kenobi reappeared, face carefully neutral until she saw him. He could almost hear the little gasping inhale she took, that she tried to hide quickly.

“Mr. Parnassus, I had assumed you’d slithered back to your pit by now.”

He did not take the bait, instead motioned the snake-headed tip of his walking stick at her.

“That accent, London is it?”

“Close enough,” she said through her teeth, and he wondered if it was out of rage or her trying not to breathe through her nose. He could be wrong of course, perhaps his scent in fact disgusted her like hers should have. “If you’ll excuse me.”

She marched off to the bathroom, a cowardly move. As if something as small as a Ladies room sign ever stopped a Parnassus! He followed a moment later, slamming the door loudly then locking in behind him.

“It’s just us now,” he warned.

Miss Pickens looked up from washing her hands, and her hazel eyes narrowed.

“I see any sense of decorum is just as devoid as your morals.”

He sauntered closer to her, chuckling. 

“And I hadn’t assumed you would be such a coward in person, Miss Pickens. Running away at our first real skirmish face to face?” he drawled, stepping so close to her he had to tilt his head down, crowded into her space. He tapped her elbow with his stick. “Tsk tsk, young lady.”

He could see her breathing grow unsettled and shallow.

“Sorry, daddy, guess I wasn’t in the mood for bullshit,” she countered, probably expecting her statement to land as an insult to his age. And yet, he found his pupils dilating and his blood warm, and he could see the exact moment on her face that she realized her own words as her cheeks flushed.

“Daddy? Oh Miss Pickens,” he said, making sure to knock his voice down an octave as he moved his face closer to hers, his breath whispering across her own trembling lips, “I may be older than you but not so old I couldn’t have you unable to walk for a week, little Omega.”

A brief moan squeaked out from the back of her throat, and for a moment she bit her bottom lip hard and he’d have been a lying man if he said he didn’t want to toss her right up on the sink and take her then and there. She grasped one of the lapels of his suit with a tight grasp.

“Mr. Parnassus,” she breathed out, voice high. And then she shoved him away as she kneed him between the legs. “Go to hell!”

He crumpled to the ground, laughing despite the pain in his groin.

“I’ll see you there soon, little Omega,and I shall enjoy every moment of it. Good luck with your board meeting this week.”

He continued chuckling as she scurried away. She might have bested him for the moment, but he knew then his plan would work. His latest victory was confirmed when Mitaka had it on good authority from one of the temps at Pickens that Miss Pickens was too ill to make it their board meeting later that week. Ill indeed, surely with the spontaneous heat he’d triggered. It hadn’t taken but five minutes as he waited in that lobby days earlier to realize they were likely a highly compatible pair of Alpha and Omega. And oh, poor Omegas who suppressed their heats, as Miss Pickens surely did...for when they came in close contact with a compatible Alpha the chance of it setting off a spontaneous heat was high. 

Luck had been on his side with the timing, and while she was a miserable sweaty wreck trying to please herself poorly with some piece of plastic, he was able to swoop in and secure enough votes to gain a good sized stake of Pickens Electric shares. Nothing a day’s work and some convenient blackmail won’t do.

It was the beginning of his new plan, his final revenge, and just the beginning yet for the delicious Miss Pickens, now that he had 49% of her company. The long game would begin.

 

_ The Last Five Years… _

 

It was widely known in business circles thay Rey Pickens avoided Abraham Parnassus like the plague he was. After news broke of his stunning stakes in Pickens Electric, the erstwhile Miss Pickens hightailed it to their Scottish office where their constant corporate continued with an ocean between them. Scathing business letters. Red marked up reports. And then there was her audacious rule that she was to never be put on the phone with Parnassus.

But her Highland exile could not last, and so Miss Rey Pickens boarded a plane back to the States to try and salvage her business from the dastardly hands of Mr. Parnassus. He surmised she’d be about thirty now, and he wondered if the years and all the haggis had dulled her annoying attractiveness. He had cared little for women in his day, preferring the sweet mistress of oil, suckling from the earth’s teat. But his hindbrain still fixated on her, every now and then whispering him to take action.  _ Soon, soon _ , he would whisper back in his mind.

When they finally met face to face again it was, of all places, at HR Obi Wan Pickens’ grave. Of all the  _ perfect _ places. 

She eyed him warily, dressed in her trench coat over a skirt suit and heels. The years had sharpened her face a bit, refined it and polished her up. For him, his hair was now completely salt and pepper, still long, but he was still imposing and every but the supreme Alpha at age fifty-five. 

He inhaled, sharply and obviously. Ah, she still smelled of lemon and grease. His mouth practically watered. 

“Hello again, Miss Pickens, fancy meeting you here.”

“Somehow I doubt this is a surprise, Benny boy.”

His smirk fell, and he felt himself fluster.

“What did you call me?”

“Benjamin Abraham Parnassus Solo. Such a mouthful, but you still went with Abraham Parnassus when Ben Solo is a perfectly good name? Tsk, tsk, old man.”

“A good name means nothing to me, Miss Pickens, and you will never call me by that name ever again,” he warned, moving closer to her.

“Sorry, Ben, you don’t frighten me. Now run off to your oil slick so I can pay my respects. I’m sure there are some puppies you can kick on the way.”

Oh, she was playing with fire and she didn’t even know. He moved closer to her, paying careful attention to her reactions. One foot closer, a fractured inhale, another foot, she slowly backing away until the headstone met her back. Closer still.

He tossed his walking stick to the ground and thrust his hands on either side of her, caging her against the cool marble stone.

“Are you sure you want me to go, Miss Pickens? That’s not what your scent says.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” she growled, not meeting his eyes.

“Do not lie Miss Perkins, it is your weakness and you have no skill at it. You know exactly what I mean, now look at me. Look at me, little Omega, look at me!”

Her head whipped up at the Alpha command, and he could see just how wide her pupils had blown. 

“Your desire is evident, Miss Perkins, let alone that I can smell it all over you.” One of his hands slid past her coat and under her skirt, finding more of the evidence he knew was there. “You’re as slick as oil, my dear. Still going to deny how badly you want my knot?” 

And just like that, her resolve crumbled and Miss Rey Perkins growled full on into Abraham Parnassus’ mouth as she sucked and nibbled and bit and went for blood. It was just as he had planned, leveraging their highly compatible biological nature. 

_ Take her now, TAKE HER NOW!,  _ his hindbrain demanded.

It was short work to have her pinned over HR Obi-Wan Picken’s headstone, and even shorter work to free his cock and bury himself in her with a single powerful thrust. He pistoned into her like a drill, delighting a little too much in her pleasured wails. He bent his head near her ear, chanting feverishly in a hissing whisper.

“Take that, Pickens, you take it Pickens, you take that real good!”

He would later tell himself he meant long-dead HR Obi-Wan, but in truth he couldn’t even be sure. 

His chants turned into moaning against that sensitive gland on her neck, the one that seemed to call to him to put his mouth on. The minute his plush lips met that bumpy patch of skin and licked was the moment she wailed louder than before, shaking.

“Yes, yes, right there, fuck fuck fuCK BEEEEEEN!!!” she screamed, her climax hitting her so hard it triggered his and he practically roared as he felt his knot swell as he came inside her, and he all could see and taste was red as he buried his face in her neck, distantly heard her yelp then wail again, felt her tremble hard and then they were locked together panting against the soiled stone.

God, but he felt extraordinary! He had thought crushing his enemies and being on top of the oil world was a high like no other, but that was before he had buried himself in Miss Rey Perkins. 

He smirked against her sweaty skin, sighing.

“There now, what a good girl you were.”

Her pants had turned to ragged breathing, and the occasional squeak at the remaining aftershocks of their knotting. 

“How...fucking...dare...you…” she rasped, her footing stumbling as one of her heels threatened to sink into the dirt. 

“And pass up the opportunity to fuck HR Perkins’ sole heir right here on his grave? I dare very much, my dear. You hear me Perkins! I’ve filled your granddaughter’s belly with my festering seed!”

“You’re insane, Parnassus, you know that?!”

“Maybe so, but you let me fuck you anyway, sweet omega, almost as sweet as my revenge!”

She hung her head, and as her hair swept away from her neck and shoulder did he see red again. Real, tangible red. Blood.

_ Mine, my omega, mine mine mate mate mate!! _

She slid a hand the spot, hissing, and then stilled.

“Did you...no no no no NO MOTHERFUCK DAMNIT DID YOU BLOODY BITE ME?”

Well then, his revenge had gotten more complicated than he thought.

Mated then, he with his 49% shares and hers with her 51%. What a delightful turn his plan had taken.

 

_ The Honeymoon Was Over Faster Than You Can Say, “Eh?” … _

 

He has insisted they marry, ‘insisted’ being a polite word for coerce. He had her backed up against a wall like he’d had her backed up against that headstone. Their mated status was obvious and if they didn’t marry, the press would have a field day and Pickens Electric stock would be in jeopardy. 

“Isn’t that what you’d want though? The company to fail as part of your ‘final revenge’,” she asked, doing an exaggerated version of his own Irish-Southern accent. “Why marry your rival’s sole heir? I thought you hated us Pickens.”

They spoke in tones as if they were talking about the weather at the crowded restaurant instead of hostile marriage negotiations in what looked like the worst date in the history of dating between the silver crow and his young companion. 

“Ah, but you won’t be a Pickens much longer, my dear,” he chuckled, his smirk like the cat that got the canary as he sipped his wine while she stood, likely to make her way to the powder room. But before she departed, she snapped her fingers and made a face as if she solved a puzzle.

“I suppose I will be Mrs. Solo from now on then, won’t it? Be right back.”

His smirk fell and he set his glass down hard enough that the wine splashed over, staining the white tablecloth red. 

Oh no, he would  _ not have that _ .

When he stormed into the ladies room, much like when they had first met, they were alone. He locked the door behind him glared at her as he approached like a predator, and she glared right back refusing to cower like prey. Even as his hand fisted into her hair tight, even when his black gaze burned into hers and he demanded she never refer to that name again. Even when she was tossed on the counter and he moved her underwear aside to fuck her so hard he was sure her head would the crack the bathroom mirror from the force of him thrusting into her.

And when she sunk her own teeth into his mating gland, marking him back in the height of their frenzied coupling, he definitely had to reconsider the idea that his little omega would be simple prey. She was proving to be anything but, an important trait for the wife of Abraham Parnassus. Oh yes, he could picture it easily. His unusual and fierce mate like an empress, bending and submitting to no one, save him. It was that thought that made him lose the last shred of his control until they were locked together, clothes torn, and he was fairly certain she had bitten his lower lip so hard it was bleeding.

All in all, one of their better dinners, all things considered. 

 

The press had dubbed it the Loveless Match of the Century the day of their wedding, the newspapers splashed with images showing the maniacal glee of the groom and the less enthused, blushing bride. If only they knew the blushing was because she had ridden him raw on the ride to the chapel in the back of the limo, against her better judgement and driven by hormones. 

They might not love each other, but even Parnassus was surprised and delighted by the intense level of their sexual chemistry. He had not so subtly implied as such to the press when one reporter had asked about honeymoon plans and if he would doze off in the afternoon while his young bride frolicked about some beachy locale.

He huffed.

“The beach are for the lazy and the only thing my sweet bride will be frockling in is our bed as I close the deal over and over and over. Benefits of a young wife and all.”

Later, on the private plane headed for their honeymoon in Western Canada so he could be near a different vintage of oil, she had rolled up the newspaper that contained the article and threatened to beat him senseless with it in a fit of rage.

He parried with his walking stick as they engaged in a bizarre parody of a duel until his stick clashed against her rolled up newspaper as they stood close, gazing intently at each other as if they could see into each other’s minds.

“You need a teacher, I can show you the ways of fencing.”

She closed her eyes a moment, then opened them calmly and kicked him back away from her as he stumbled back and she struck him in the face, giving him a thin papercut from eyebrow to cheek. He looked at her in awe from where he lay on the plane floor as she stood over him, wondering what she’d do next.

What he did not expect was for her to throw the newspaper to the side and straddle him, or that he would end up with his head between her legs, wearing her like a damn crown and enjoying every moment of it and every moan of hers.

To say Mr. and Mrs. Parnassus reached the mile high club was a huge understatement. 

And they only barely managed to be deported for two counts of property damage and one count of public indecency. 

But soon the honeymoon was over when thanks to an old patriarchal business clause, Parnassus gained her controlling shares of Pickens Electric thanks to their marriage, and then promptly sold the company off in pieces.

The wind in his sails at his latest coup carried him on in the face of her anger and disappointment, but he was not prepared to feel something hollow in him a bit when it was clear she was also hurt. When she wouldn’t even fight with him at that point and had also barred him from her bedroom. She had stopped speaking to him altogether, not even a scatthing email. As the final last bit of Pickens Electric was liquidated, she was gone. New Zealand this time, as far away from him as her visa would carry her. He’d let her go too, what did it matter? Let her sulk.

So what if his dick would practically shrivel from disuse in her absence, it wasn’t like he hadn’t had his fill of her, or rather, she her fill of him. He’d lived a long time without sex distracting him, he’d do it again. He’d gotten his revenge! That would see him through.

But it was strange how his house (their house) felt emptier and how his bed felt colder and he found himself getting frighteningly complacent without her to keep him on his toes. It was strange to not be told “I hope you choke on your coffee you miserable bastard” every morning, or to scowl at her as she yet again failed to understand the chess strategies he was trying to teach her because Good God, how did any business tycoon NOT know chess?

He let her sulk for two years before deciding enough was enough. She had certainly been surprised when he showed up at the door of her rented cottage in Queenstown, barrelling his way in so they could stand awkwardly in the hallway.

She barely looked at him.

“Christ, what did you age another fifty years?”

“Watch it, young lady, I’m not even sixty yet.”

“Close though,” she murmured, stepping forward as he moved backwards to stand with his back against the door. He wondered if she had even realized she gave chase this time.

“Still not so old I can’t show you a thing or two, my dear.”

“Is that a threat, Mr. Parnassus? Couldn’t you find another omega to scratch that itch?”

He scoffed.

“I do not want any other omega, only the one I married!”

She rolled her eyes as she stalked closer, stabbing at his chest with her finger.

“Ah yes, because it’s all part of your revenge against HR Pickens! Marry his granddaughter, fill her belly with your festering seed! And god help me I was enjoying it, even knowing what a messed up drama queen you are who doesn’t give a shit about me. You just had to mate me as part of your sick games, didn’t you?” she screamed, clearly on the end of her rope.

It was then, for once in his life, he felt something strange. A sliver of, what did they call it? Compassion?

“Crushing young R Pickens was my plan yes, and when I expected a young welp of a boy I’m met with you instead. I admit, sending you into that spontaneous heat to make you miss the board vote that time was intentional..”

“You cantankerous fuck! MY VIBRATOR DIED MID HEAT. I COULD HAVE DIED STRANGLED BY MY SHEETS, NAKED IN THE MOONLIGHT.”

“A tempting image, my dear, so very tempting. But yes, infiltrating your company was part of the plan, yes, and infiltrating you on your grandfather’s grave was a master stroke if ever there was one.”

“I swear to God if that was innuendo I will murder you and no one would convict me…”

“Silence, woman, let me finish! AS I WAS SAYING, ruining your life, ruining your company, and ruining you quite thoroughly was my plan, my revenge! But I confess, I had not actually planned to claim you.”

“.....What.”

“I suppose I was carried away.”

“...the…”

“In the heat of the moment…”

“FUCK. YOU FUCKING GOATFACED FUCK. ALL THIS TIME I COULD ALMOST ACCEPT YOU DID THIS FOR A REASON, SHACKLED US TOGETHER IN YOUR STUPID, HARE-BRAINED, FRANKLY OBSESSIVE GRANDPA’S BOY NEED TO ACT BIG AND GET REVENGE AND NOW YOU TELL ME THAT WAS NOT, IN FACT, PART OF THE PLAN?????”

“Uh, yes?” he asked, voice high. Would she actually murder him? Did he have any favors owed by the New Zealand constabulary? 

But then she did the one thing that truly put the Supreme Leader of Oil Men out of his depth, she began to cry in huge, gulping sobs.

“You didn’t want me, even...for revenge you didn’t actually want me, it was an accident, I was an accident. Why would you want...nobody ever wants me, not even my own mate.”

He had never once understood women, but he had enough instinct to know he needed to sooth his omega and fast. Not because her tears made him wildly uncomfortable (they did), but because he wanted her to not...be sad?

He pulled her close, rubbing his hands up and down her back and letting his Alpha pheromones soothe her. What a strange concept for a man who usually used his Alphaness to frighten everyone else. Except her. 

“Look at me, Rey, look at me,” he ordered. She lifted her face to meet his gaze, and he brushed her tears away gently. “I do want you. I wanted to bend you over that bathroom counter the first time we met, I wanted your pointed letters and barbed words and your rage, I wanted you when I was rutting into you over HR Pickens’ final resting place, and when you threatened to set my office on fire if I didn’t come for dinner that one time, and even though you are painfully weak at chess and it makes me embarrassed for you I still want you and I will always want you.”

She blinked at him. 

“Do you...do you  _ like _ me?”

“I…”

“Do you like me more than oil?”

“Do not be hasty, Miss Pickens, oil is the mother milk…”

“Old man,” she said quietly but sternly, “do stop ranting.”

And then she kissed him, and it was not a mashing of teeth, she did not draw blood and when she slid her fingers through his long silver locks she sighed. 

She didn’t need to hear his answer, and he didn’t need to know what hers would be. Did they ‘like’ each other? What a weak word for it and marriage was not for the weak! 

She took his hand and led him into the living room, where a large pile of comforters and pillows sat in the middle of the floor. A nest. 

“Your heat is coming?” he asked quietly.

She nodded. “You couldn’t smell it? It’s already starting.” 

“You never nested before.”

“Because I was suppressing them before.”

He remembered then that in the brief time they were together he hadn’t seen her through her heat. His mate. His omega. About to go into heat, their first heat together.

She motioned him to the middle of the nest, helped him peel out of his coat and shirt. He helped her out of her sweater.

“I’m not a good man, not really,” he stated, plain as fact.

“I know. But,” she pressed her forehead to his, eyes closed, “You came back. No one has come back for me, but you did.”

“You aren’t ever leaving me again,” he growled, hugging her tighter.

“Look at me, Ben, look at me,” she ordered and he complied, not even mad she used his given name, “I want you to fuck me like you like me.”

Her hazel eyes shone bright, more beautiful than the lights of the oil rigs at dusk. 

He shook his head.

“I do not ‘like’, Rey, ‘like’ is a marshmallow of a word,” he replied, then ghosted his mouth over the shell of her ear, “I shall ravish you like I love you.”

He lowered them until she lay on her back and he hovered over her.

“Will you fill my belly with your festering seed?” she joked with a grin.

“How would you like to not walk for a week?”

She shrugged.

“Well, I am currently unemployed. Some big bad wolf blew my house down, and consequently I might have also  blown him a few times as well.”

“Rey…” he warned, trying not the laugh mirthfully. Him, laughing in anything other than contempt! 

“Yes, Ben?” 

He grasped her chin firmly in his hand.

“You love saying my name so much, let’s give you more use for that.”

And he did, to the point where her vocabulary was limited to “fuck” and “Ben” and when her heat truly kicked in and it triggered his rut, he would admit to no one but himself that yes, perhaps his wife was better than oil. But he would take that his grave.

  
  


_ His Final Revenge…. _

It surprised no one when Mr. and Mrs. Parnassus reunited. Mates aside, the society pages were all conclusively sure they were the only two people with the temperment enough to handle each other. What did surprise the press was when three months after their return from their reconciliation down under was the announcement that the couple was expecting a boy. 

Soon Mordecai B. Parnassus Solo was born. Rey watched her husband hold their son, and smiled. 

“Careful, Daddy, you almost look sweet holding him.”

“Keep calling me daddy my dear and I’ll have you with pups again in no time.”

“Will you now? I think we’ll already have our hands full with your little final revenge there,” she said smiling.

What a strange little family she had.

 

It wasn’t all perfect. Mordecai turned out so much different than his father, and showed less ambition towards crushing his enemies and instead listening to that weird, whiny rock music and dyeing his hair bleached blonde. Perhaps it was strange for him, having a really old dad and not totally understanding the nature of his parents’ relationship.

Mordecai didn’t need to know about that week while he was at camp when Parnassus couldn’t get out of bed because the mattress was too soft, and she was the mattress. 

No one needed to know their geriatric dad was still getting his fuck on. 

“Promise me darling, that you won’t embarrass Mordecai at Career Day today?”

“I will only tell the children the truth about oil.”

Rey nodded, sipping her coffee.

“Do I want to know about the dead bird?”

“You do not.”

“You have the healthy snacks?”

“Yes, the Capri Suns are in the cooler with the livers.”

Rey nodded, sometimes still baffled that this was the man she married. What kid was going to want swine livers? Weirdo.

Then again, she was the one who somehow began encouraging the idea they have wedding anniversary sex on her grandfather’s grave every year so perhaps she was really his kind of weirdo.

The last great oil baron, her old man. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
